


How did he find out

by Sindefara



Series: Loving Longest [2]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Forced Incest, M/M, Mpreg, Original Character(s), Sauron is amused, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-22
Updated: 2017-05-22
Packaged: 2018-11-03 19:38:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10973994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sindefara/pseuds/Sindefara
Summary: Due to a strange accident, Maedhros finds out that Gil-Galad is his son and Fingon was Gil-Galad's mother.





	How did he find out

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sequel to my fic "The Physician" (http://archiveofourown.org/works/10537797/chapters/23267280), originally published in Russian as "Как он обо всём догадался" (https://ficbook.net/readfic/4642948)  
> The translation is my own; all corrections and comments are welcome!

Winter 494/495, First Age 

Maedhros got his travel bag from a hook, took out a letter from Orodreth, and read it a third time. He could not believe that the cousin got through all this trouble to send him such a meaningless message. All Maedhros’s advice and warnings were completely disregarded, including the most basic one - to destroy the bridge across the river Narog. Does he really expect to fight Morgoth by himself?! Only a handful of elves from Nargothrond participated in the battle of the Countless tears. Perhaps there was really no one to explain his or her king that the army of the Enemy of the World consists not only of Orcs: it will be necessary to fight dark Ainur and the dragons ... The letter was not only stupid but dangerous, too: It contained enough information about the location of Nargothrond and its defenses, so that, falling into the hands of the Enemy, it could prove fatal for Orodreth.  
After re-reading the letter to the end, Maedhros once again laughed bitterly. What does Orodreth mean by the "inappropriate attention of a red-haired relation”? Does he imagine that Maedhros himself is interested in his daughter Finduilas? Or does he mean Amrod? Nonsense. In any case, the letter must be destroyed as soon as possible.  
\- Nelyo, did you really give these Men five horses for a scouting mission? - Maglor asked from outside.  
\- Yes, yes, I forgot to tell you. Wait a minute, I am coming, and I have to give them orders.  
Maedhros put the letter into a chest with other letters and papers and came out of the tent in a forest glade. The tent was old, faded, almost brown, not crimson-red, as it used to be. The sun had almost set. The short winter day was over. Maedhros felt that his whole life was now like this - only a few short hours of a gray, pale light, and then everything was again shrouded in darkness.  
He was about to check the supplies and fodder for the horses, but remembered Orodreth's letter left in the tent. It must be burned as soon as possible!  
Maedhros returned into the tent - and saw a skinny, dark-haired elf. He knelt by the chest on the floor, holding the letter in his hand and was about to open it.  
Maedhros instantly ran up to him; the young man jumped to his feet and swung his dagger. Maedhros struck him with the hilt of the sword in his left arm, forcing him to drop the knife, than knocked him down and put his sword to the stranger’s throat.  
The Elf was very young. In appearance, he was not even forty - quite a teenager. He was dressed in a simple black shirt, warm pants and a black leather jacket with short sleeves - nothing that would indicate his tribe or the name of the master whom he served.  
\- Cáno, come here, please, - Maedhros said in a loud, calm voice.  
The younger brother went into the tent.  
\- He rummaged through my papers, - the elder brother explained.  
Together they tied him.  
\- Who sent you? - Maglor asked. - Answer me! Who are you, whose son are you?  
The young man was silent and did not answer a single question.  
\- I believe he is one of Gorthaur's spies, - said Maglor. - You and I will not get anything from him. We'll have to kill him. You can, of course, find a Man who knows how to torture, it’s easy nowadays – but, honestly, it’s disgusting, and it is unlikely that even in this case he will say anything.  
\- All right, - Maedhros said. - Tomorrow I'll cut off his head in front of our retainers for everyone to see and no one will spread any rumors.  
\- You can tie him up and throw him in the barn where we keep our clothes and grain, - said Maglor.  
\- I agree. 

Later, in the dead of night Maedhros went far away from the camp. He stood under a huge oak tree in a small glade. The moon was shining brightly. His heart was very heavy. For these last terrible years, he has already learned well to take the lives of his own kinsmen, of other Elves – not in the heat of a night battle, justifying himself by the fact that it is necessary, as it was then, in Aman, but to murder in cold blood, to put the spies and traitors to the sword. That's the way it is now. He has to behead a boy who in normal life would have to live with his father and mother for another ten or twenty years and think only of hunting, singing and dancing. Where are his parents?.. 

\- Nelyo ... Nelyafinwë... I'm begging you ... Listen to me! Please!.. – Maedhros heard a trembling, tearful low voice.  
He unsheathed his sword with lightning speed, turned around. An Elf stood on his knees in front of him, turning his palms up; despite the freezing winter, he wore only a thin linen shirt, pants and soft leather boots: he tried to show that he was unarmed.  
Maitimo's mouth dried out: he recognized him.  
He did not want to remember his name, but it was one of them.  
Maitimo always referred to them condescendingly as "the boys". He thought of them as teenagers, pupils. If he considered them as adults, then, perhaps, he would become jealous. With these three of his friends, Fingon almost never parted: Maedhros so often saw them dining together on the grass, as if they were schoolchildren during a recess, laughing constantly at something; every now and then Fingon, laughing loudly, fell on a friend’s lap, closing his eyes, helplessly waving his hands. One, named Telemmaitë, was a school friend of Fingon’s, who wielded his bow almost as good as Fingon himself, but unlike Fingon, could not sing at all. And there were two brothers, the elder and the younger. The elder was, as Maedhros remembered, Turgon's playmate, when they were children and then made friends with Fingon; they also took his younger brother to their company. The one, who was an archer, was killed in the Battle of Countless tears; the two brothers disappeared even earlier - not long before Fingolfin's death.  
The younger brother now stood before him on his knees.  
\- What do you want?  
\- Nelyafinwë, I beseech you, please spare my son! He's still a child!.. Kill me, please! I will do anything for you, I beg you!  
\- Your son tried to steal my letters and kill me. Are you sent by the Enemy? You do not have to answer ... - Maedhros almost forced himself not to remember his name. - Go away. I do not blame you for becoming a traitor, but your son will have to answer for his actions.  
\- No, no! Please! – The Elf held out his hands, but did not dare to grab the hem of Maedhros' clothes. - He had his orders ... He could not disobey. My son was born in Angband, he has no other choice, and he doesn’t know any other life ... I ...  
\- You are his father, - Maedhros said. - If you became his father, it was your responsibility to raise him properly. Your son became a servant of Morgoth. Your paternal duty ...  
\- I'm not his father! - He cried desperately. - I'm not a father ... I'm his mother. I’ve carried this child, I ... Do not take my son away from me! I can only beg to spare him, Nelyo!  
\- What are you talking about? - Maedhros's heart froze; he himself did not yet understand why, but a horrible cold was pouring somewhere below the chest, around the heart, in his mouth ... - It's impossible ... You are a man, you could not be his mother. Why are you deceiving me?  
\- I beg you ... I'll tell you everything, Nelyo. If you want, judge me; execute me, but not my son. 

_***_

The brothers were chained to the wall in a tiny prison cell. The cell was small, but they were in different corners: he could only reach out and touch his brother's fingers - but no further. Over the head of the older brother there was a narrow gridded window: from behind the bars snow and sometimes – rain came on the younger brother’s face. The wind kept blowing from that north side. The air was icy cold: both Elves wore only shirts and pants. There was hunger and thirst: each of them got in the morning a bowl of gruel and a piece of bread with a goblet of water. Weeks and months passed; they tried to talk to each other, to remember something, to retell each other books or some past events. Both bitterly laughed when they tried to remember what, in what order and on what plates was served on a formal banquet in the palace of Fingolfin. Both understood that they were trying not to go insane, but weeks went by and the older brother began to feel that perhaps madness was after all a way out of this torment.  
That day was unbearably cold, but clear: the older brother wished there was a snow – a few more drops of water for both of them. However, through the window, the sunshine - so joyous, almost festive - poured in white and golden threads. The younger brother smiled at him, and his face seemed so beautiful and gentle.  
Food was brought early in the morning, an hour ago, before sunrise (he ate everything at once, the younger brother saved a half), but now in the corridor there were footsteps again.  
On the threshold appeared an Orc guard and someone who was taller by a head - a figure in heavy black woolen clothes embroidered with gold and rubies. Gorthaur sneered, inspecting the cell, then asked:  
\- It's them? What are their names? Who is the youngest, who is the oldest? - Hearing the answer, he pointed at the younger one: - Take him.  
The older one torpidly watched as the shackles were removed from his younger brother’s hands and legs. As the guard tried to raise him to his feet, Gorthaur snorted angrily and threw off his cloak:  
\- It will take an hour! Wrap him in this and carry him upstairs. Tie his hands and feet. Why do not you have a rope with you? Go on, faster!  
The door slammed behind them. The elder brother jolted with a scream, feeling the gust of wind from the door stir his greasy, disheveled hair.  
The next day the gruel and bread were brought only for him.  
The Elf crouched in the corner. He hid his face in his lap. It was intolerable to look at the plate in which the remains of food were decaying - there, beside his brother’s empty shackles.  
It was unbearable to recall how his brother cried "Farewell!"  
Ten days passed. Then they came after him. This time two guards came. They did not carry him: he was beaten several times on the way - for walking too slowly.  
He was forced to wash himself and cut his hair; they gave him a clean shirt of rough fabric; then they led him somewhere up the stairs.  
Here he saw Gorthaur again - dressed in a black shirt with rolled up sleeves. Behind his back on the table or a high couch lay his brother, stark-naked, hands and feet tied to iron rings at the sides of the table, his legs wide apart.  
\- Come here, - Gortaur ordered. – Come and look.  
He came over. He did not want to look at his brother's body. Many times, he imagined the horrors that they could do to him. He closed his eyes.  
\- Look, - Melkor’s lieutenant demanded again.  
The younger brother did not look at him, when he approached, did not say a word. His empty gaze was fixed in the ceiling. Than he turned his head to the wall.  
On his body there were no fresh wounds, traces of burns or beatings; the older brother could not understand what had happened to him until he looked between his legs.  
\- What’ s up with him?! What did you do? - he said. – Why you did this to him? What is his crime?!  
\- I am not punishing him or you: he is just a raw material. Now I need him to become pregnant, - said Gorthaur. - And I need this today, in the worst case – tomorrow. You will be the father of his child - I need a close relative. It would be better, of course, if you were a cousin, not a brother, but you will go. Now you lie on him and f... ah, yes, you must perform an act of conjugal love, if it’s clearer for you. I can untie your hands, but if you even try to hurt yourself or him – I will be cutting you in little pieces for a month. Or two. Is that clear?  
\- No, - he said, - no. I can not. I can not do this to my brother. No. Never.  
\- Or you're lying down now, or I will return you ... no, you're not going back to the cell, now you know too much. You get an ax in your skull and fly to the bottom of the abyss from that window on the stairs. Do you understand?  
He gritted his teeth, clenched his fists, trying to suppress fear.  
\- I will not.  
\- Is that your last word?  
\- I will not. No. Do whatever you want, I will not hurt my brother. And I will not become a father by your order. You do not understand what this is for us. None of the Eldar will ever do this.  
\- Take him away and kill immediately, - ordered Gorthрaur to his assistant. – Damn, I have to find another one.  
He bowed his head. That is all. He was led to the exit, but at the doorway, he turned back. He saw the face of his brother, who was watching him leaving. There was despair in his eyes, he silently begged for help, but he did not hope anymore.  
The older brother understood that even if he himself would be killed right now, the younger brother is doomed to stay here, utterly helpless, with bound hands and feet, and ... Gorthaur will “find another one”. Someone, perhaps, a dark, marred Elf, servant of the Enemy, may consent to rape the captive, violate his body and soul. Perhaps his soul would be unable to stand the pain and he would die. And perhaps, even if this insane plan will not succeed, if his brother will not conceive a child, he will have to experience violence, pain, revulsion not once or twice, but many times, perhaps, in different hands ...  
\- I ... - he exclaimed huskily. - Wait, I will do it, I will! Do not kill me…  
\- Very well, - said Gorthaur. - Did you eat today? No? Nathron, bring him a dinner.  
He swallowed several pieces of bread with cheese and ham, drank half a glass of wine. He felt slightly numb, his head was spinning - he had not eaten since last morning.  
\- Go on, - Gorthaur told him. A curtain was drawn around the bed of his brother; he approached him. He felt something like being in love, a faint longing several times in his life, but he did not have a loved one, and he never intended to marry. One day, he dared to ask Turgon about his married life. Turgon honestly satisfied his curiosity, and now he mentally heard his calm, rational voice. Strangely, his nervousness almost subsided.  
\- I'll try to be very careful, - he said gently to the younger brother, and even more gently, - I'm sorry ... they say that the first time can be a little painful.  
\- It will not be more pain than already was, - answered the younger one, trembling with cold and fear.  
The older brother tried to calm him first; patted him on the head, on his soft dark hair; put his hand on the brow. Then he pulled up his shirt and lay on him.  
\- Please, have patience, my dear, - he said affectionately, as if he were still a child, when he took a long spike out of his hand… these strange shrubs with yellow flowers that grew in the dunes in the south of Valinor. There were no such flowers here in Middle-Earth…  
\- Very well, - the younger agreed. - We both have to want it happen, do you remember?..  
He was ashamed for the pleasure he experienced. He looked at the pale face of his brother, his half-closed eyes, long black eyelashes - and was happy that at least it did not hurt very much: if his brother tried to conceal the pain, he would see.  
\- Well, that's all, - he said, and his own voice seemed to him somehow unfamiliar. - What ...- he said to Gorthaur. - Tell me, what will happen to the child?  
Gorthaur mused.  
\- Well, probably nothing at all. - He shrugged. - I'd like to see how he grows up, and for as long as possible. You raise it; it's not for me to do it. Have a rest, - Gorthaur patted him on the shoulder, - then do it again one more time. I need it to be done today. I’ve already lost a lot of time with the previous two. Without control copies it is difficult to work, but it turns out that now I only have one. Now what day it is according to the Noldorin calendar, Nathron?  
\- It’s fifty-fifth day of winter, - answered the tall Avari Elf, who had previously set the table for his elder brother.  
\- Well, we have only five days left. I thought there would be at least ten. Elvish scholars state that the pregnancy term for Elves is strictly a year, but perhaps the ones who were originally males will have a longer or shorter term. We don’t know.  
Nathron brought him another meal: half of a fried chicken, bread, a few boiled carrots and an apple. He was still hungry, but remembered the exhausted face of his brother and asked:  
\- Can he at least have a little bit?  
\- Yes, there will be no harm, I think, - Gorthaur replied. – Bring one more meal, Nathron. 

... The second time he caressed his brother silently, seeing his cheeks and lips turning pink. He felt that, although his legs were tied, his brother squeezed his hips around him, pulling him toward himself. Now the fear has almost disappeared, and all that he felt was love for his little brother, for the one was his best friend for so many years, the closest friend - more than a friend ...  
He was allowed to go to bed next to his brother (his hands were tied again), but they still managed to talk a little before sleep.  
The next morning he was awakened by Gorthaur's loud voice.  
\- Perfect! It seems that it worked. It worked, eh? - The tall black figure rushed first to one end of the bed, then to the other. He glanced at the older brother; Gorthaur’s eyes gleamed with red fire. - Well, I do not need you anymore, do I? Well, no… probably ... most likely, the mother and child will feel more relaxed, if the father will take care of them… Only swear to me that you will not do any harm to the mother or the child.  
\- Of course, - said the older brother. 

The two rooms in the tower were rather stuffy, especially in winter months, when they could not open the windows for a long time. They did not talk much, perhaps because otherwise they could confess to each other that they were happy – happy because they were alive and together, and because they were expecting a baby - they both loved children. The older brother remembered the day the Sauron’s assistant mentioned and nervously counted the days of the term.  
Gorthaur himself appeared in their rooms five days before the date. He walked back and forth, looking very cross and annoyed; several times a day he examined the younger one, he went and come back.  
\- What am I doing here, - said Gorthaur once to himself, - what an utter stupidity – to leave alone… This idiot may not return to me after all or it may be too late… I must find him myself…  
The brothers exchanged glances, but both were afraid to ask what all this was about.  
Fortunately, everything happened in due time. Gorthaur carefully inspected their baby, who, probably, was frightened, too: he was silent and only once faintly squeaked. The younger brother grabbed the older’s hand, stabbing his fingernails in his palm so that a few drops of blood fell on the bed.  
\- A boy too, yes, that's good, - Gorthaur nodded. - Well, look well after your brother and the baby, I must go... 

A few weeks later they were lying in bed together – there was only one wide, low wooden bed. Gorthaur again came to them that day; he inspected the mother and child. Both parents were nervous and could not sleep. The older took the younger one by the hand, and pressed himself to him. The older one patted him on the bare shoulder, caressed his neck, and embraced him. The younger, just like that time, pressed his knee to his, trustingly parting his legs before him.  
\- Do not ... - said the older. He wanted to kiss him goodnight innocently and stop it all - but the kiss was burning on his skin, setting his chest and loins aflame.  
\- I'm sorry ... - The younger brother squeezed his hands, ran his fingers over his elbows, forearms, hugged him, stroked his back, touched his hips, wrapping himself around him...  
\- I should not ... We should not… - the older brother whispered, - do not ... what's wrong with me, I'm going crazy, I'd better get out ... - He tried to get up, but the younger one held him back.  
\- I am burning, too ... I can bear it anymore, you are so close, and we ... Do not think badly of me.  
\- You do not think badly of me, I can not stand it any more, too…  
They lay side by side, panting, hands on each other's thighs; the younger brother kissed him again and said:  
\- You know, now I understand why it is not customary for us to bear children at such difficult times ... There is such a horror all around, we are both ashamed and scared, but our bodies do not know this and do not want to know. Our bodies feel that we are a young couple who just gave birth to our beloved child... a couple who wants to enjoy each other...  
\- Yes, - the older brother buried his face in his brother’s chest. 

_***_

\- One of us sometimes can leave for an errand; sometimes there are two of us, - said the younger brother to Maedhros. - Never three of us so that we can not escape. Now my brother, the father of our child, stayed in Angband. He asked me many times in such cases to leave him, to escape with our son ... but where will we go? Our home is no more, there is no one left ... and Findecáno is no more... - He gasped and fell silent. - Nelyo, you are right, I am responsible for my son’s upbringing. Do you want me to be executed instead of him? I'm ready. Do it. I'm unarmed, you can take me and lock me in his stead. Just let my son go...  
Maedhros did not answer.  
Sauron’s words, retold to him by the unhappy Elf, burned in his mind:  
_... a close relative ... it would be better if you were cousins ..._  
_... the fifty-fifth day of winter ... only five days left ..._  
_... control copy ..._  
_... to leave alone ..._  
_... a boy, too ..._  
_... too ..._  
Gil-Galad, born on the sixtieth day of winter, when his father ( _father?_ ) - Fingon left his palace alone...  
\- Get up, let's go, - he said to Fingon’s friend.  
He led him to the outskirts of the camp, to the barn and looked around. The sentries chattered by the fire or gazed into the dark forest paths: nobody looked at the barn’s door. Maedhros opened the lock and pulled the young Elf outside.  
\- Take him, - he said, not looking at them. – I don’t want to see any of you again. I remember your younger brother well; this applies to him, too.  
\- Nelyo ... thanks! I ... I ... - Maedhros felt a touch of cold lips on his left hand.  
\- Stop it now, - he replied sharply. - Get out.  
  
***  
  
A few months later, after the news of the fall of Nargothrond reached them, Maedhros once again took his bag, the one from which he had got a letter from Orodreth to read it; he wanted to take bread and cheese he kept in it, but at the bottom there were several folded pages.  
He took them out, looked at them - and his eyes filled with tears.  
There were uneven, tangled lines, messy, crawling on each other, written in different kinds of ink, some with a coal pencil. It was so familiar to him, - Fingon's shabby, careless handwriting. The notes were written two years after the death of Fingolfin - in the fall and winter, a few months before the birth of Gil-Galad. These were separate sheets; Maedhros was sure that something was missing, that he was given only scraps - but this ...  
Maedhros guessed that either Fingon's friends, whose son he had let go, had obtained this document for him - or it was a gift from Gorthaur himself, a small and rather ironic sign of appreciation for sparing the youth’s life. 

_I need to leave. I am scared, but otherwise everyone will guess soon. Or, in any case, they will suspect something wrong is going on - how can one guess about this? I should have invented something different ... but what? There is no other way out, since I put myself in such a position. But I could not otherwise._

 _It’s November. I did not take into account how severe winters have become now. There is snow all around. The river is frozen._  
_I admit I feel bad, how it is called - engwa? I used to hear this word only applied to Men. Yesterday I was terribly sick. Killed a squirrel today. At least the child will not be hungry. I feel ashamed._

_I think about M. all the time, but of course, I can never tell him._

_Very little time left. What will I do? What if I die?_  
_On his advice started to write letters. I tried to write a note to M., but I can not. I can not explain him anything, and if I do not explain him all, everything I write will be a bland lie, a dishonesty. It’s so hard. I wrote a letter to Carnistir; despite all the difficult circumstances, it is to him I give the care of the child, if something happens to me. I think poor Moryo will be only glad - it's hard to imagine such a life as his – hopeless, devoid of all joy._

_Two days left. I must go. I probably can not write anymore. I want to say goodbye to everyone, but I do not know how. Although after parting with Father, other farewells are for me no longer of great importance._

_Maitimo, please take care of my son, do not hurt him!_  
Before the word "son" something was crossed out; Maedhros thought that it must be - "of _our son."_

_***_  
At the next meeting, he gave the yellowed pages to Gil-Galad.  
\- I know everything, - said Gil-Galad, - for a long time. Are you sure? You want to give it to me?  
\- Yes, - answered Maedhros.  
He furtively touched his pendant - one of the two they once exchanged with Fingon as a token of love. Their wedding necklaces.  
\- It's good that you know now, - Gil-Galad told him and smiled - softly, sympathetically.  
Maedhros could not say anything to his son. Yes, now he realized that Fingon could never deceive him, he could never lie. He could never have made a deal that went against his conscience, he could not give to other man or woman a single kiss, one touch, even a grain of his love, a love that belonged only to Maedhros. It was so simple, so natural for Fingon.

And was it really so unconceivable for him, that he did not understand this at once?..


End file.
